Light in the Dark
by BuffyAnne
Summary: She leaves. Shortly after being released from the hospital, Laurel packs up her apartment and goes, moves away to Mexico, moves so far from anyone and everything in Philly. Moves so far away from him. - Post-3x09, Diverges from canon after the night of the fire.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Light in the Dark

 **Rating:** PG-13

 **Pairing/Characters:** Frank/Laurel, Laurel Castillo, Frank Delfino, Bonnie Winterbottom, Annalise Keating,

 **Spoilers:** Canon up to 3X09, then diverges from canon.

 **A/N:** Hey guys! So, I'm starting a new multi-chapter fic! But don't worry because I'm still hard at work on my other fic and hope to update that one soon.

I've had this one hanging around my files since around December, and I wanted to start posting it sooner rather than later. After just 40 seconds, I have a feeling this new season is going to give me a lot of inspiration, and I don't want this story that I have been working on to be overrun by the new fics I'm sure I'll be writing.

This one takes place after the night of the fire and diverges from canon, so 3B didn't happen in this fic. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

She leaves. Shortly after being released from the hospital, Laurel packs up her apartment and goes, moves away to Mexico, moves so far from anyone and everything in Philly. Moves so far away from him.

Frank tries to keep her there. He almost lost her; she nearly died. And it hits him harder than anything else ever has. The pain he feels at the thought of losing her is crippling, and he knows he can never allow it to happen. It would mean the end of him.

So, Frank tries to keep her there. He shows up at her place, tells her he still loves her and needs her in his life. He asks her to just let him in, to help her through the pain of losing Wes and just be there for her and her child, in whatever capacity she needs.

Shaking his head, Frank polishes off a glass of bourbon and signals to the bartender for another. He's lost count of how many he's had.

Who is he kidding? He's a broken down wreck of a man. He tried to kill himself. And if he's honest, he still wants to. He's done too much. He's caused too much pain. It's all he's ever done. Sam pulled him out of the gutter, and Frank threw away that chance before he even hit the ground. And then he was trapped, beholden to Sam and Annalise, and he thought he'd never get out of that dark place in his mind.

But then Laurel came along, and she was a ray of light and good. So, so good. She saw past his rough, poor exterior, maybe even saw the man he was trying so hard to be. She was his second chance. She was the love that he thought could save him. No one else could. Just her. Just Laurel.

He doesn't deserve a third chance but he begs for it that night. He tells her he wants to fix it, that he'll wait until she's ready. He wants to start over, he says, just be there for her and her child, even though it's not his. He'll love it anyway as if it were his kid. She won't look him in the eye. But he pushes forward and tells her he can be the man she believed him once to be. He wants to be that man. He knows can be the man she needs if she just gives him one more chance. Just one more.

The fire in her eyes rages then. So icy blue. Hot. Dangerous. It tells him that his chances have come and gone. She may have loved him once, and she may still, but she's done.

She yells for so long. The pain is so clear, building and building until suddenly it deflates, until she seems to have nothing left.

"Someone killed Wes," she says in a voice not entirely her own. Numb. She sounds numb. "Someone _we know_ did that. I can't—I can't be here anymore. Not when there's no one I can trust."

"You can trust me," he insists, refusing to give up so easily.

It's the one thing he knows to be true. He will always fight for her. He will always protect and love her, even if she doesn't love him back. She is still his chance at a life-changing love, even if it never happens. He's never going to stop trying to get better, trying to be good enough for her.

"You can trust _me_ ," he repeats.

She doesn't respond for several moments. Her eyes are empty. It feels as though she's looking right through him.

"Can I?" Her voice rings hollow when she finally speaks.

He realizes in that moment that although he needs her, she doesn't need him. Not anymore. Maybe she never did. She'll never trust him again, and he did that. He broke them too many times. He didn't know how to love before her. And he didn't learn quickly enough.

"Frank!" A familiar, sharp voice snaps him out of his thoughts, out of the scene replaying over and over on an endless loop. He can't get her out of his head, the dull woman who used to be vibrant, so full of light and good. She's gone. They snuffed her out. And Frank doesn't know if she'll ever ignite again.

He glances over at Bonnie, taking a few moments for his eyes to focus on her small frame. He turns away quickly. She's not who he wants to see.

"What're you doing here?" he slurs, motioning for another drink.

Bonnie intervenes, cutting him off and asking for the check instead. He knows he's not going to get a choice here.

"Laurel's gone," he tells her simply, voice rough and broken. She didn't ask but he could see the question in her eyes. Why is he here? Why is he wasted? What's going on? It's a shorthand that they developed so long ago, so naturally. Back before he ruined it all.

"You knew it would never last, Frank. From the beginning, we both knew that. She's better off somewhere else, away from this world."

Her voice is cold. Frank is used to it but he can't take it now, can't focus on how unfeeling it is, not when he's hurting this much.

"I know," he admits, voice strained as he stares down into his empty glass, "But I still hoped that maybe somehow it could work. I thought 'cause I love her… I thought maybe it could be enough. For both of us. I've never loved anyone the way I love her, and I just… I wanted it to work. I wanted to be someone better for her."

He sees Bonnie's deep frown out of the corner of his eye, knows somewhere in the fog of his brain that his words are hurting her but they're true. And he can't hide that. He can't lie about that. Not to her. Not to anyone. Laurel is different in every way. She's the big romantic love he didn't realize he longed for, and he doesn't know how to let it go. How to let _her_ go.

He falls into bed with Bonnie that night anyway. He falls into bed with her over and over and over until he's not thinking about Laurel every second of every day, until suddenly it's a relationship—weirdly romantic and desperate and something they both need.

They have a deeper connection than he's ever realized. She knows everything and so does he, and yet, she still wants him, reaches for him, makes him feel something that's almost like the love he feels for Laurel.

It's different, though. Not quite ever going to be the love of his life, not ever going to be a passionate love. That's reserved for someone else. But maybe that's not real. Maybe what he has with Bonnie is. So, he throws himself into it, becomes a better man for her and tries to pretend that he's not clinging to the hope that, one day, Laurel will give him that third chance; that one day, he'll see her again. He's still trying. He's trying to be a better man for her. For Laurel.

"Annalise wants to see you," Bonnie tells him one day as she's walking around their bedroom getting dressed.

He's confused. There's been nothing to indicate this development. "She does?"

"Yeah, I told her what you did and that she wouldn't be out of jail if it weren't for you, that you helped lead the police to the hitman the Mahoneys hired to kill Wes. She wants to see you… Just hear her out today. Let her say what she needs to say, okay?"

It's good advice and Frank knows it. Annalise deserves to say whatever she needs, without him crying, without him putting a gun to his head. He's been better. Bonnie has helped him get through the lowest of the lows, and he feels something resembling normal now. He feels like he's actually ready to have this conversation.

"Okay," he starts, stopping to clear his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is stronger, filled with a confidence his eyes belie. "Okay. I'll be there."

"One o'clock," she tells him, walking over and kissing him softly on the lips, her hand resting on his cheek, nails scratching lightly through his beard in a way that reminds him of Laurel. "Don't be late," she warns before walking out of the bedroom, leaving for work.

xxx

Annalise lets him back in. It's nothing like it was before, at least not at first. He's very much on probation, his every move scrutinized, his every action followed. He can't do anything without explicit permission from Annalise. And he's expected to achieve the desired results on the first try. He works twice as hard, twice as long. He focuses, using all the knowledge he's gained over the past 11 years to make sure he's doing everything right.

And she requires him to see a psychiatrist weekly. He's smart enough, and not too proud, to admit that he absolutely, definitely needs that. If he's going to be the man Laurel deserves, he needs that. He used to see Sam regularly after getting out. Most of the time, it helped. He adjusted to the real world quickly, he learned fast, and for a very long time, he felt normal. He didn't have any of those thoughts that landed him in jail in the first place. Sam had helped him.

But, looking back on it, Frank realizes that Sam had used his progress, used their relationship to manipulate him. Frank would have been the first to tell you that he owed Sam everything—even more so than Annalise. And that's how Sam was able to keep him from telling Annalise about the accident that killed her baby; that's how Sam was able to hold it over him for 10 years, so that when he finally ended up with an undergrad who wouldn't be quiet and get the abortion, he could call on Frank, force him to revert back into that man he tried so hard not to be, and kill Lila.

This time it's different. It's someone that doesn't know Annalise, doesn't know anything about the past few years. And that's good for him. He's able to talk around what he's done, able to open up. He takes it seriously, so that he can be someone better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Mia, honey, come on. We have to get ready for the doctor," Laurel calls from the back porch. She watches as her five-year-old daughter slowly makes her way back from the sand of the beach and sighs.

Almost six years since she's left Philly, and part of Laurel feels like it had all been a dream. One horrible nightmare of a year that didn't really exist. She's never met or fallen in love with Frank Delfino. Wes Gibbins is a stranger who is alive and well. She spends every day thinking it can't possibly be real.

Then, she looks at her little girl and knows that's all a lie she tells herself. Maybe she thinks it'll make everything easier but it doesn't. It just makes it harder to move on.

She thinks of her last moments with Frank every day, the way he stood in her apartment crying—begging her to give him another chance—and it almost feels like it's happening over and over again.

 _"Please, Laurel. I know you're hurting but you need someone. And I love you. Let me be here for you, however you need."_

 _She's so angry with him, standing there assuming he knows what she needs, assuming he knows anything about her. He gave up his right to know her the moment he left._

 _"I don't_ need _anyone," she growls so ferociously he visibly flinches as if she had slapped him. "And even if I did, I would never want you. What have you ever done for me except destroy my life?"_

She was so cruel to him that night. Her words were designed to cut deep, and they did. She saw it in the way his eyes dimmed. There had always been slivers of light when he looked at her. Only at her. She had been so numb, though. Mourning Wes. Dealing with being pregnant. And he had been looking at her as if she was still his light. She wasn't, not anymore; so, she tried to hurt him as much as she was hurting. It worked.

"Mommy, do you think Dr. Martinez will give me a lollipop today?" Mia asks with her hopeful smile, in her practiced English that Laurel encourages her to speak while at home. Most other times, she speaks her native Spanish.

Somehow, despite how horrible Laurel knows her daughter feels, Mia never loses her spark. She never loses the light in her eyes. She's stubborn, refuses to give up the fight. It's something she's gotten from both her parents.

"I bet she will if you're good," Laurel tells her as she finishes tying her daughter's shoes. She leans forward, kissing Mia on the cheek, lightly tickling her side. Mia squirms.

Laurel loves the laugh that follows. A light and lilting, familiar melody she could listen to over and over. It gives her hope.

"We'll get some ice cream after, too, okay?" she promises, standing and taking Mia's hand in hers as she leads them out to the car.

The drive is a long one; the children's hospital is on the other side of town. Mia dozes off almost immediately. She's tired all the time now, and Laurel knows it's a sign that she's getting worse, that the treatments aren't working. Laurel's hoping that today's visit will bring good news. She knows in her bones that it won't.

The last six years haven't been easy. After leaving, she cried herself to sleep every night for so long. She's dreamt of Wes, of when they had been friends and everything hadn't been so complicated. She hates that their last words were angry and insecure. She hates that she could never really tell him that he didn't have to worry about Frank. They both knew she cared about him still, and she hates that she couldn't give Wes everything he deserved.

She's dreamt of Frank, too, of the good times and the bad. She still dreams of a future—seeing him one day and falling into his arms as if they're in some big romantic movie where they'll live happily ever after. She dreams of how much he'd hate her if she ever showed up in his life again. She hates that she had been so upset she turned him away, made sure that he would never want to try with her again. She wanted him to leave her alone. He did.

Moving on hadn't been easy, and she's not been all that successful. Although, she has her moments. She works at a non-profit near the town where she grew up in Mexico. Everyday she feels like she makes a difference, however small. Then she goes home to her little girl, and she thinks that maybe she's good. She can be happy and fulfilled.

It's the nights when she realizes something will always be missing, or rather, someone. _He's_ missing.

 _"You can trust_ me _." He pleads with her. And she wants to believe him, wants to give in and stop fighting, admit that she does need someone but can't trust anyone. Instead:_

 _"Can I?" Her voice is cold, intended to hurt him._

 _She watches him with a steely gaze as he leans away from her. She watches as something shatters in his eyes. It doesn't deter her. She wants him to hurt as much as she's hurting. It's selfish and mean and she doesn't care. In that moment, it's the only thing that doesn't make her feel alone. So, she keeps going. She goes in for the kill, even as her stomach is rolling and telling her to stop, reminding her that she doesn't believe what she's saying._

 _"You're a monster, Frank. A_ murderer _. You killed a girl just like me. Do you really think I want you anywhere near me or this child? You don't deserve my trust. You don't deserve any place in my life. I don't want you… Now, get out."_

Laurel shakes her head. She has never been able to get his face in that moment out of her mind. That she kicked him when he was already at his lowest haunts her every day. She hates herself for letting her pain and guilt and fear lash out against the only man she's ever really been _in love_ with, the only person who wanted to be there for her.

She's never really been able to move on. She's barely dated. Most men run the second they find out she has a daughter. Only a couple ever stuck around for more than a few of months, and she's entertained a future with them, imagined them as a father for her daughter, let the wall she's built tumble over just slightly—a brick or two, no more.

But then she looks into her daughter's eyes—eyes _exactly_ like her father's—and all she can see is him. Every day, she's taken back to him, reminded of a man she loved, reminded that he never got the chance to know his daughter.

And she builds the wall higher because it's not fair. She looks into those eyes and feels an overwhelming sense of guilt. Mia's father never had the chance to be a father, and so, she can't let another man come close.

"Good job, Mia." Dr. Martinez smiles as she draws blood. "So brave."

Mia gives a big smile to her mom, sucking on her lollipop. She's gotten so used to being poked and prodded that it doesn't even faze her anymore and that breaks Laurel's heart. Mia doesn't deserve this; no child deserves this.

"How has she been doing? Any more active than last week?" the older doctor looks to Laurel.

Laurel takes a breath, shaking her head.

"No," she says softly. "She likes going down to the beach but she's always tired, doesn't have much of an appetite, and sleeping more and more."

She tries to stop the tears welling in her eyes. The doctor frowns, and Laurel studies her face as she runs through her checks on Mia. She acts like everything will be okay for Mia's sake but Laurel sees through it. The treatments aren't working, and Laurel knows the only other option is a transplant.

After a few minutes, Dr. Martinez gives Mia another lollipop. "You did so well, Mia. I'm going to have a talk with your mom, and then you can go," she tells her before glancing over. "Laurel, let's talk in my office for a few minutes, okay?"

She nods but feels the dread in the pit of her stomach, knows that this isn't good.

Mia smiles at her still, always so positive and hopeful and excited about her second lollipop. She kisses her daughter on the forehead. "I'll be right back, baby girl."

Once in the office, she takes a seat. A deep breath intending to stop the tears doesn't help.

"I wanted you to come in today because I got the test results back," the doctor tells her gently as she sits behind her desk.

"I'm not a match, am I?" Her voice is wobbly. She barely recognizes it.

"No," she responds softly. "You're not."

Laurel sits there a long moment processing that information, that even though she's Mia's mom, it's not enough.

"So, what's next? We put her on a transplant list?"

Dr. Martinez nods. "I already have but that could take a long time, to find the match that we need… The best chance is a blood relative and the closer to Mia, the better. Though as we've discussed, it's still difficult to match. Obviously, we've seen that with you," she explains. "Is Mia's father around? Because if he can be brought in that might be our best shot."

Laurel doesn't respond, doesn't explain. She's not sure how to do this.

"Laurel," the doctor starts slowly, "I know you know that everything is progressing quickly. The quicker we find a match, the better Mia's chances for a full recovery… And…"

When she trails off, Laurel looks up from her hands, confusion on her face. "And, what?" she asks hesitantly.

"I think it's time to admit Mia so that we can keep an eye on her. I know we wanted her to be at home as long as possible but we've reached that point. I can give you the weekend but first thing Monday, I'd like you to bring her in."

She breaks completely at that, and Dr. Martinez comes around to her in an attempt to comfort. She's used to this, Laurel knows. Having to comfort grieving parents is part of the job. It doesn't help though. She doesn't do well with other people's comfort.

Laurel can't grasp her next move but she does what she can to pull herself together. She'll figure it out. She always has. They return to the exam room and as soon as she sees Mia's bright, blue-grey eyes staring back at her—eyes _exactly_ like her father's—Laurel knows she doesn't have a choice anymore. There's only one thing she can do, and so she must.

She did what she thought she should all those years ago when she took Mia away from her father—away from Frank—and by the time she realized she was wrong, it was two years later and she didn't know how to go back. She didn't know how to make it right or even if she could.

She spends the weekend with Mia and, after getting her settled into the hospital with her mom, she gets on a plane to the place she's both wanted to return to so many times and never wanted to see again. She's thought about going to Frank almost every day she's been gone, telling him the truth, pleading for forgiveness, maybe having him back in her life, and Mia's too. Mia asks about her father from time to time. Laurel finds a way to put it off and feels incredibly guilty when she tells her little girl that she doesn't have one. Laurel knows deep down that Frank would have been there if she had let him, if he had known.

 _"Look, I'm not askin' for anything you're not ready to give," he tells her with a soft tone, and she can't look at him. She knows it would be too hard; she'd be too willing to let him back in, and she needs to leave. She has to get out of there, away from Philadelphia and everything she knows so that her child can have a real chance._

 _"I know you're going through a lot, Laurel," he continues when she doesn't say anything. "I get that leavin' makes the most sense to you. Believe me, I get that more than you know."_

 _She scoffs lightly at that because he_ did _leave. She didn't get a chance to talk him out of it. She shakes her head, gearing up to fight._

 _"You shouldn't be alone. I know you're not ready, and I will never push you for more. But... I love you, Laurel. And I know there is still something here and I want to start over. I wanna fix it. Let me be here for you, both of you."_

 _"Fix it?" she spits out, confused about what hope he has for them. She doesn't feel like there's any hope left for her. Everything is so messed up. She's pregnant with his child but all she can think about is how he left her and lied to her and everything else he did. What's to stop him from doing it again? The next time to their child. She knows the only way she can ever fix it is to leave and start over, on her own._

She wakes as the captain makes the announcement that they've begun their descent into Philly, and she looks out the window. She wonders often what her life would be like if she had stayed, if she had let them start over and let him be there. Would they be together now? Maybe married with another kid. Maybe separated, dating other people with shared custody. She doesn't know. At the very least, Mia would have a loving father.

Never in any of her fantasies or nightmares did she imagine returning to Philly like this, to tell Frank that not only does he have a daughter but that she's very sick and he may be the only one who can help.

When she finally arrives at Bonnie's house, Laurel takes a deep breath. She played the conversation over and over in her head while on the plane, asking Bonnie where Frank was living, convincing Bonnie to give her that information—knowing it won't be easy—listening to all the reasons why Laurel needed to go. She went through so many scenarios but none of them prepared her for this.

In none of them did Bonnie answer the door with a child on her hip. In none of them did that little boy—no more than three years old—wave at her with a big smile, with his brown hair and blue eyes. Brown hair. Blue eyes. In none of them did she have a sick feeling wash over her because she suddenly realizes that Frank may have moved on, maybe with Bonnie, and maybe had this kid. She's not sure. She tries to find similarities between this child and hers but she doesn't get much of a chance before Bonnie is clearing her throat.

Her eyes snap to the blonde's. Bonnie is angry, Laurel can see that much. Her voice is cold when she speaks.

"What are you doing here, Laurel?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey all! I'm so sorry for the long delay in this chapter. I suck! But I promise, I am getting back on track and will be updating more regularly. Thanks for reading and all of your comments. I hope you still enjoy this fic. Let me know!_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Eventually, it's almost back to how it was before. It's Annalise and Bonnie and him. Annalise somehow gets her job back at Middleton. The Keating Four is reestablished, new students each year, and none of what happened with the Keating Five. And the only thing that's really different now is that he and Bonnie are sleeping together, living together, and trying to force _something_ together.

They ignore that last part for more than two years before they realize that it's not working, that it's only continued as long as it has because they don't want to be alone. While they love each other deeply, they are never going to be _in love,_ no matter how hard they try to make it happen.

Bonnie is the one that finally moves to end it. She sits him down one night, tells him she met someone, and he makes her feel more than she does with Frank.

"I finally understand what you have with Laurel," she tells him softly, and that's all Frank needs to hear. She knows. She knows as well as he does that he's been holding out hope that Laurel would come back to him one day.

He doesn't stand in her way, couldn't even if he wanted to. He understands; he knows what it's like to love someone so completely, and if Bonnie has a chance for that, he wants her to take it. She deserves that and so much more.

So they end up back at best friends, and that turns out to be an easy transition because they're no longer forcing anything, no longer trying to make it more than it ever should have been. Bonnie marries the guy, finally gets a happy ending, even has a kid, and Frank becomes Uncle Frank and a godfather to her son. It's a role he wears proudly.

And him? He goes back to how it was before. He starts flirting with the students, taking them to bed, ignoring the fact that they aren't Laurel, even though they always have dark brown hair and blue eyes.

He's with the current stand-in when he finally sees her again.

It's the middle of the morning and, for some reason, the girl is still there and wearing his shirt. He's not a complete ass; he's not going to kick her out, and she's good enough company but he can see it starting to happen. He can tell that she thinks she's going to be able to "change" him, to get past his playboy exterior and find a way to get him to open up. He doesn't want that, is very clear with the girls from the start that it's only ever going to be something casual. He's not looking for anything more, and if they are, then it's not going to happen at all.

He's getting out of the shower, wearing a pair of jeans and heading toward the kitchen when he realizes the girl has answered his door and that on the other side of it, staring back at him with a look he can no longer place is standing the best thing that's ever happened to him.

He doesn't say anything at first. He _can't_. He's frozen in place, just taking her in. She's more beautiful than ever. And yes, he's dreamt about this moment but he never thought he'd be lucky enough that it would actually happen. He doesn't deserve it.

But here she is, staring back at him still and studiously avoiding the woman who answered the door. She looks like she wants to run, and he doesn't blame her. He would too if the situation was reversed.

His brain is backfiring as he tries to form any words, like a skipping record unable to move forward.

"Who are you?" Meghan asks impatiently, apparently annoyed that Laurel is intruding on their morning. He bites his tongue to stop from pointing out to Meghan that _she_ is in intruding on _his_ morning and maybe she has no right to act like she belongs here.

Laurel seems to sense that and doesn't spare Meghan a glance before addressing him.

"Can I come in?"

The words are familiar, not that they are unusual. He's sure they are spoken millions of times every day. But, for him, they transport him back to the last conversation they ever had. He thinks about it often, wonders over and over again what he could have said that night to keep her from leaving.

" _Can I come in?"_

" _What are you doing here, Frank?" Laurel asks, eyes as cold as he has ever seen them._

" _I wanna talk this out," he implores, almost desperately. Well, not almost. He is desperate. This is his world in front of him, and he doesn't know what to do if he loses her._

 _She just shakes her head. "Well, I don't. Just go."_

" _No," he says, blocking her from closing the door on him with his foot. She sighs, frustrated, but he can see it. He can see her softening just slightly, almost imperceptible. Anyone else would have missed it. But not him because he knows her. He always has. It's as close to a chance as he's going to get. "Please…"_

"Frank."

Laurel's sharp voice pulls him out of the memory as Laurel continues to ignore Meghan, stepping around her and into the apartment. "I need to talk to you. Please, it can't wait."

"Excuse me!" the other brunette exclaims but Laurel has his attention and all Frank can do is throw her a disinterested glance.

"You need to go," he tells Meghan before looking back at Laurel.

"What?!" She's offended, and he gets why—really, he does—but he doesn't care.

"Get dressed and leave," he dismisses.

Gesturing to the couch for Laurel to sit, he follows her around as Meghan stomps off to the bedroom. It's a tense, awkward silence as they wait. He doesn't miss the bag of clothes Meghan is carrying with her either. He knew that she was trying to leave clothes there, thinking he wouldn't notice, trying to worm her way into a relationship he didn't want. He doesn't care because it was never serious, never anything at all. Meghan knew that.

All he sees is the woman sitting next to him. She's all he cares about.

After Meghan storms out, Frank excuses himself to put on a shirt. He hears Laurel's voice following him as he leaves the room.

"I went to Bonnie's first," she remarks, feigning casual conversation though there is a hint of something underneath. "I thought her son might be yours when I saw him."

He genuinely smiles at the mention of the little boy. "Mikey?" he asks as he returns to the living room, pulling a t-shirt over his head. "My godson," he puffs up, "but no, not mine." He laughs lightly, before adding with a self-deprecation he's perfected the past five or so years, "Could you ever imagine me having a kid?"

He's imagined it for himself multiple times but he remembers vividly how Laurel didn't want him near her child, remembers thinking how maybe she had a point, what she must have thought of him that she didn't think he'd ever be good enough to be a father.

"Yeah," she starts, and the word rattles him as he looks over at her, takes a seat in the chair across from her. "I actually think about it every day."

Well, he wasn't expecting that.

"What do you mean?" he asks, watching the far-off look that crosses her face. She's not quite looking at him but over his shoulder as if she can't bear to make eye contact.

"I wonder if I would have been wrong about you," she admits. "If my anger and grief clouded my judgment or if I was right."

He doesn't understand where she's going with this, doesn't understand what she's telling him though he recognizes that it's something.

His tone is soft when he speaks, weary. She's just shown up out of the blue after all these years, and now she's rehashing that last fight. He doesn't get it. "Laurel, what are you—"

"You do have a kid," she blurts out—almost as if she can't keep the words in—but her eyes widen as she hears what she's said, shocked that she let them out.

He is, too. Shocked. Confused. He doesn't quite understand; his brain is still skipping, unable to make the connection.

"Actually, a daughter," she says quietly, more sure of herself.

He feels like an idiot. "Laurel, I don't—"

"I wasn't pregnant with Wes's baby," she says, frustrated that he's not picking up what she's saying fast enough. "She's yours."

The silence that follows is deafening; the thoughts in his head are loud and overlapping and unintelligible: _He has a daughter. Laurel's child is his daughter. He's missed five years with his daughter. Laurel didn't trust him with his own daughter._

They are endless and persistent and heartbreaking.

Because he wanted so badly to be there for Laurel. He wanted to take care of her and be there for a child he thought belonged to another man. She wouldn't let him but she knew. She _had_ to know because they hadn't been together since that summer when he met up with her in Mexico. She was further along than anyone knew. She had to know. And yet, she left him anyway.

"Frank." Her voice is softly begging for his attention, and she gets it. The look on her face should be enough to give him pause—it's clear there's more to it—but his eyes narrow, and his emotions begin to take over.

"She's mine?" he asks, his voice low and angry as the ramifications start seeping into his brain. "You knew that and you just left?"

She's silent for a moment but he's not going to let her avoid the question. He deserves answers. He waits, watches as her thoughts and emotions play out on her face until she finally settles on a response.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

He lets out an incredulous breath. "You're sorry?" he asks, standing from the chair in frustration. He starts pacing in front of her, unable to sit still. "You took my daughter from me, lied to me all this time," he mutters, "but sure, as long as you're sorry."

"I thought I was doing the right thing!" she tells him, almost angry herself. There's a part of him that feels bad about his reaction but, really, he doesn't know what she expected. He doesn't know how he can react any differently. He's missed so much, lost out on so much. He didn't have a choice in that. She took it away from him.

He stops moving and turns toward her, eyes narrowed. "The right thing?" he asks softly, and as angry as he is, it breaks his heart more. It kills him that she really thought he would hurt her or their child, that she didn't believe him when he told her that he loved her. It kills him knowing that he was solely responsible for her fracturing her trust in him. "I would have been there for you, for her," he tells her, so sure in his statement. He would have done anything to make it right. "I loved you."

"I know…" she admits, and he sees the tears in her eyes. "I made a mistake."

They look at each other for several moments but he doesn't know what to say. He still doesn't understand.

"Why are you here? Why now?" he asks, frustration still clear in his tone.

"Frank…"

He shakes his head. "No! What's really changed, Laurel? You didn't trust me before. You know nothing about me now, so why?"

Laurel takes a deep breath and walks around the coffee table separating them.

"Frank, I know you're upset—" she says as she steps closer to him.

"Please go," he cuts her off with a step back, realizing as she says the words that he can't hear her explain right now. It doesn't matter what she says; he doesn't trust that his reaction won't be purely emotional, that he won't say something he may come to regret later.

"Frank," she starts.

"No. Laurel, you made sure she wouldn't be in my life. You purposefully kept her from me and made me think she was Wes's child. And now you just show up, after years, and expect me to just be okay with this and ready to talk about it? I can't do this right now, Laurel. I can't—I need to process this."

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, trying to keep his emotions in check. He wants to see his daughter; that thought is clear as day. But how? How can he come into her life after so long? How would he explain his absence to her? Tell her that her mom kept him from her, and it wasn't his choice? No, he could never do that. He'd never want to put blame on Laurel. But that means what? His daughter will spend her life thinking he didn't care enough for the first five years? He doesn't know how to do this.

Laurel presses forward, not willing to leave him to his thoughts. "Frank, I get that you're hurt right now and upset but please just listen—"

"I would have been there for you," he repeats, his tone is low and serious but his anger has momentarily yielded to his pain, "I don't know what more I could have said to you that night. I put it all out there, Laurel. You were everything, and I told you that I wanted to be there for you. I wanted a chance to fix things, to make it right, and be there for you and your child even though I didn't think she was mine. I would have done anything for you, but it wasn't enough. You left anyway. And now you're telling me that you've known all along that she was mine and you just took her from me? You kept her from me when all I wanted was to be there for you."

She's openly crying now. His words have struck a chord, and he can see how guilty she feels. But he can also see she's unwilling to give him the space he needs right now.

"She's sick," Laurel blurts out. "She's sick and I've done everything I can do. I'm her mom, and I'm supposed to be able to protect her but I can't protect her from this because I'm not a match, and I didn't want to come here," she admits to him as she wipes at her eyes.

She takes a deep breath before pushing forward. "I didn't know how to do this. How to come here and admit what I've done. But she's sick, and you are her father, and I need you because you might be a match and I can't lose her. She doesn't… She doesn't deserve this. Please, Frank," she pleads, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never told you. I was trying to do what I thought was best for her and I may have been wrong and you can hate me all you want but, please, don't take it out on her."

Another silence falls over him as her words play on repeat. She's sick. He has a daughter and she's sick and that's why Laurel is here. She's still crying, pleading with her eyes for him to let the rest of it go right now. She doesn't know what he's thinking. He's not even sure he knows. But really, there nothing to think about. And his response is innate, comes from deep in his bones. It's the only thing he could ever think in this moment. He's standing in front of the woman he hasn't seen in almost six years, and he's ready to do whatever she is asking. Of course he is. He'd do anything for her. For her and, now, for their daughter.

"What do I need to do?"


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: My obligatory, "I'm sorry it's been so long" note. I promise, I really am working on getting back on track! Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think._

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

"What are you doing here, Laurel?"

Bonnie's sharp, angry voice slices through Laurel's thoughts and concerns that this little boy peering up at her curiously may be Frank's. It doesn't matter anyway. No matter the current situation, she needs Frank. She's not leaving until she talks to him.

She takes a breath and meets Bonnie's eyes.

"Is he here?" Laurel asks, hating how timid she sounds.

Bonnie's confusion is as clear in her face as it is in her response. "Is who here?"

Laurel can't bring herself to say what should be obvious. Why else would she be there? Instead, her eyes drift to the little boy in Bonnie's arms and the ring on her finger.

And when she doesn't reply, Bonnie lets out a frustrated sigh. "He's not Frank's, Laurel."

Her tone is short, the warning clear, but Laurel's surprised by the strength of her own relief. That's quickly followed by annoyance with herself for begrudging Frank the chance to move on. There's no reason she should have expected him to be waiting.

"Sorry," she whispers finally before clearing her throat. "Could you give me his address, please? I need to speak with him."

Bonnie eyes her suspiciously, and Laurel feels like she's still that 1L who Bonnie admonished for leading Frank on—not that she was ever actually leading him on—but she gets how protective Bonnie is of him now. Because, despite why it happened, Laurel knows Bonnie was right, and she ended up breaking his heart.

"That's not a good idea," Bonnie says, just as distrustful as she always was.

"Bonnie—"

"No," she cuts off Laurel's protest. "He's finally moved on, Laurel. You were on his mind every second of every day after you left, and I was the one here helping him pick up the pieces. It's not fair for you to show up after almost six years and take him back there."

Laurel sighs and takes it in, the pang of guilt loud and constant. She knows she's made mistakes, but she can't get into that conversation right now. This is not about her and Frank. It's about Mia.

"You're mad at me. I get that. And you're not wrong to be, but this isn't your call, not really," Laurel argues, taking a breath and standing a little taller. "We both know Frank would want to see me."

When Bonnie glances away, Laurel knows she's gaining the upper hand and pushes forward. "Frank would want to see me," she repeats more confidently, "and I have something important that I _need_ to deal with involving him. It can't wait, and I know he would understand."

Bonnie's softening but Laurel can see her mind wandering—weighing the options—not quite convinced.

"Please, Bonnie," Laurel pleads softly. "I'm sorry I hurt him but this really can't wait. I need to see him. Please."

xxx

"How long has she been sick?" Frank asks softly as he sits beside Laurel in the Middleton Hospital waiting room.

She startles out of her thoughts, replaying the day over and over in her head—from the confrontation with Bonnie to showing up at Frank's, telling him the truth about Mia. She's not sure that Frank has moved on the way Bonnie believes, or at least the way Bonnie tried to convince her that he has. After seeing the younger girl in his apartment, it's clear to Laurel that's he's reverted back to how he was before he met her—just finding students to pass the time. And he's even more gorgeous than she remembers, so she's sure it's not hard for him to get the girls in his bed.

But Bonnie's right that this isn't entirely fair of her. She doesn't want to give Frank hope that he can know his daughter, know _her_ again. She's conflicted, not quite sure what's best for Mia at this point, not sure if the decision she made all those years ago was for her daughter or herself.

"About seven months," she breathes out quietly. "We started with other, less invasive treatments, but they didn't work the way we hoped, and I'm not a match, so there's nothing more I could do." It's the last part that kills her—that she couldn't protect her daughter, stop all of this from happening.

Frank doesn't say anything, just nods slowly as he looks down at his hands.

They're awkward around each other now. It's clear he doesn't know what to say in this situation. And, honestly, she doesn't either.

"Thanks for doing this, Frank," she tells him after a moment.

His head pops up and he looks her in the eye. "Of course. I'd do anything for you… for her, if I had known."

She swallows the lump in her throat. She knew he would have, had she given him the chance. She can't speak those words so she nods and glances forward, away from him.

She can feel his eyes on her though, can tell he has so much he wants to say. There's a pull inside her too, a persistent reminder of who this man is to her—the love of her life—a truth she long ago pushed away, and it makes her want to unplug her heart and spill her guts to him, let him in the way she had all years ago so she doesn't have to do this alone anymore.

"Do you have a picture?" he asks finally, tone softer than she's ever heard, pleading quietly for more information about the little girl she can tell already has his heart.

She looks back at him a moment before closing her eyes and sighing, shaking her head as a soft smile crosses her lips because of course, she's not going to deny him that. "Yeah," she breathes.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out her phone. After finding the gallery—pretty much all of Mia—she hands the phone over to him on a photo of the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl looking straight at the camera with her signature bright smile and deep dimples clear as day.

She's almost sure that Frank stops breathing. She wonders if he recognizes that it's his own eyes staring back at him.

His finger reaches out to lightly brush the phone, and she watches as he swallows a hard lump in his throat, his eyes welling up slightly. Her own eyes do, too, because seeing Frank see his daughter for the first time is as heartbreaking as it is incredible.

She can't say anything, so she reaches out and swipes the screen, silently encouraging him to look through the other photos. And he does. He doesn't say anything, just swipes and looks, studying every new picture—memorizing his daughter.

He comes to rest, finally, on one of Mia and Laurel. It seems to be his favorite which honestly surprises Laurel after everything she's done to him.

It's a photo from Mia's last birthday. Mia's in Laurel's arms, princess tiara on her head and lips blue from the cake's icing. Her smile is wide; Laurel recalls that she was laughing—so happy and full of life—and they're both looking directly at the camera. It's one of Laurel's favorites, too. But Laurel remembers her frequent thoughts that day, maybe even as the picture was being taken: _Frank should have been there._

"She looks happy," he says quietly, maybe not even talking to her but to himself.

Laurel responds anyway. "She is," she tells him. "She's always so happy. Even when she's exhausted. Especially when she has a lollipop."

When Frank chuckles lightly, she knows her attempt at levity was successful. "I see that's something you've passed along to her."

"Yeah," she smiles, before giving him _something_. "But I think she really gets her love of sweets from her father."

It's a bold statement. And she's not sure it's the right one, if it will give the wrong idea or upset him. She knows he's mad. She can see it simmering right under the surface but she also knows he's trying to push it away at the moment, to focus on the immediate issue. And that's helping Mia. She's sure as soon as they figure some things out that anger will be directed at her in full force. And she'll let him get mad. Because she gets it; she understands his side. She'd be angry too. She deserves to let him have his anger.

Right now, he just smiles wistfully and keeps looking at the picture of her and Mia. He clears his throat slightly, emotion clear, and she has to bite her lip to keep from feeling those emotions as well. "Tell me something else about her," he pleads.

Laurel thinks for a moment, wanting to offer up something really good before she realizes it doesn't matter _what_ she tells him; he just wants to know _anything_.

"She's bilingual," Laurel starts. "I've been teaching her both English and Spanish since she was born. She's so smart."

Frank smiles at that, and she continues, "I have her speak English when home since it's Spanish pretty much everywhere else."

"So, you went back to Mexico?" he interrupts gently, and she's surprised that he didn't already know, wasn't keeping tabs on her in some way.

Laurel nods. "Yeah, Sayulita, near where I grew up and where we spent…" she trails off, thinking about their summer together before everything truly fell apart. "Our house is on the ocean, and Mia really loves it. She's always down by the water and running around on the beach."

Frank smiles wistfully at that. He has so many questions, so much he wants to say. It was always easy to read him, and she braces for what must be coming, but he doesn't say anything, just takes in what she's giving him.

"She's starting first grade this fall," she goes on with an easy smile. It's always easy when she's talking about Mia. "And she loves school, is so excited to go every morning. Her teacher loves her. She's doing really great."

He glances back to the photo of her and Mia, taking it again. "Not surprising," he starts. He seems somewhat relieved, though she's not sure why. "She looks like a mini-you. Probably has your personality, too," he says, fishing.

"Yeah, I think in a lot of ways," she agrees before conceding, "though, she's not much of a wallflower." She lets out a small laugh at the mention of her old nickname. She grins. "Mia's much more charismatic. And sometimes, she doesn't know when to be quiet."

That gets a laugh out of Frank.

Laurel looks at him a moment before letting her guard down ever so slightly. "I know you say she's a mini-me, but I see a lot of you in her too." She looks at the photo he still has up on the phone. "Those are 100% your eyes. And she has your dimples and smile. Your personality found its way in there too."

"I hope not too much like me," he says, self-deprecatingly, and suddenly, she understands his relief from before. He's afraid Mia ended up with his struggles, those parts of him she knows he would change if he could. Those things she used against him when she told him she didn't trust him or want him in her life anymore. She hates herself right now for everything she said that day.

"She's perfect," Laurel says emphatically, catching his eye in assurance. "She's the best of both of us."

Laurel's always felt that way if she's being honest. And it's been hard, seeing Frank in Mia every day, but she'd never change that. She's the perfect combination of the two of them, and it makes for an amazing little girl.

It's silent for several moments before Frank speaks again, not looking away from the photos he's scrolling through.

"I want to meet her," he says decisively, leaving little room for argument, and it unsettles her. "Whether I'm a match or not, I want to know my daughter."

She stiffens and glances away. She knows it wouldn't be right to deny him that, but her defenses are going back up, and all the reasons she left still feel valid, as unfair an assessment as that may be.

"I don't know, Frank," she murmurs with a shake of her head.

"Are you kidding me?" he asks incredulously, voice low to avoid drawing eyes but she can easily tell that he's angry and her eyes snap back to him. "She's my daughter. You've already kept her from me for five years, and you've only told me now because she's sick-"

"So what?" she interrupts, raising her chin in defiance. She doesn't know why she's so against it but she can't help the confusion she feels and the instinct to push him away. "I don't let you see her and you won't help her?"

"Of course not!" he shakes his head. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Well, I'm saying I don't know if I want her knowing you. I need to figure it out," she says honestly.

He's seething, wants to say more. She can see that clear as day, and she takes a breath to steel herself.

"Mr. Delfino?" a nurse calls, effectively cutting off Frank. He acknowledges her and stands before turning back to Laurel and holding out the phone, which she takes wordlessly.

"We're not done discussin' this," he tells her before turning and following the nurse through the double doors, leaving her behind, completely unsure of anything.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

In all the times he hoped for Laurel to come back to Philly and him, Frank never imagined this. He thought, perhaps, Laurel would still love him the way he loved her, that he'd meet Wes's daughter or son, and maybe have a chance to form a family. Because he already loved her child from the moment he learned she was pregnant. It wasn't even a question. He never even had to think about it. His heart just grew to include this unknown being who wasn't even with them yet.

Frank never imagined that child was actually, biologically his, that maybe the only reason he would ever even know she existed was because she was sick, and he may be the only one who could help her.

But it doesn't matter why Laurel came back into his life. Now that she has, Frank refuses to let her go again. He's going to do whatever it takes to ensure he doesn't lose his daughter either.

He parts with Laurel at the hospital, though he wants more—want to continue their discussion, wants to yell at her for doing this to him while knowing he'd never hurt her like this, wants to break down and drop to his knees, tell her how hard these years have been without her and how he can be better, beg her to take him back, give him that chance she so cruelly denied him before.

Instead, he ends up in Bonnie's living room, and she must see immediately how broken he feels because she puts down Mikey for his nap and brings him a glass of bourbon.

"I shouldn't have given her your address," Bonnie spits out, her anger toward Laurel ever present.

Frank takes a drink and shakes his head. "It's good you did," he insists.

"Like hell it was!" she yells. "Look at you! What the hell did she say to you? You know she begged me, said it was important, and why? So, she could kick you back down six years later?"

Bonnie looks ready to go after Laurel, and he hasn't seen Bonnie this angry over her in a while—since not long after she left, when he wouldn't stop talking about her and Bonnie chastised him for sleeping with her while pining after his ex. He stopped mentioning Laurel after that, keeping those thoughts to himself.

But Frank just takes a breath. "I have a daughter," he somehow gets out, the words not as foreign as he thinks they should feel.

Bonnie pauses at that—mid-rant—and takes a moment to process what Frank is telling her though he can tell she's confused.

"I spent that summer after I left town in Mexico with Laurel," he admits. It's something he never actually told her. He didn't ever give her many details about Laurel or his relationship with her. It felt like a betrayal to do so. "When I realized Annalise had sent the hitman after me, I disappeared one night—I didn't tell her, just took off. I was afraid to involve her, afraid she would get hurt."

Bonnie looks stunned to hear this new information. "I didn't know she was pregnant then," Frank continued. "She never told me that, not even when I was begging her to stay—to let me love her and Wes's child."

"Wait. So she obviously knew her child was yours and left anyway?" she asks, before adding, "That little bitch."

"Bon," Frank objects.

"No," she cuts off his argument. "You do not defend her for this. She's done a lot to you, Frank. I get that you loved her but she did not get to do _this_ to you."

"I still love her," Frank says automatically, not really thinking about what he's saying, just speaking the one thing he has always known to be true. He watches Bonnie's look at the admission, sees how she wants to react but doesn't.

"You should be pissed at her, Frank," she says flatly.

And that gets Frank attention. "I am pissed" he asserts louder before recognizing that he can finally say everything that he held back that afternoon with Laurel. "I'm angry and hurt, and I don't understand how she could do this to me. Even if she didn't want to be with me, how could she just take away my child? I want to scream at her and fight to know my daughter. I've lost so much time," he cries, tears he didn't realize were forming starting to fall as the emotions catch up with him. "Laurel won't let me meet her. She's not sure it's the right thing."

Bonnie's anger intensifies, clearly on his side and not Laurel's. "You have legal rights here. And I'm sure we can get a judge to side with you on this. Just because she's a spoiled brat doesn't mean she could make this decision. She cannot keep your child from you. We'll go to court, Frank."

He hears what she's saying, and he knows she's right but Frank can't bring himself to acknowledge any of it right now. It's not where his focus is, it's not what's important, and he shakes his head before blurting out, "She's sick."

Bonnie freezes for a moment as her eyes widen. When she speaks again, her tone softens slightly. "Laurel? What's wrong?"

Frank shakes his head. "Mia," he says before clarifying, "my daughter. Leukemia. That's why Laurel's here. She needs a bone marrow donor, and Laurel's not a match."

Bonnie moves to sit next to him on the couch as he drains his glass and sets it on the coffee table. When she doesn't say anything, just places a comforting hand on his back, he continues, "She needed me to get tested, so we went to the hospital… I don't want to get angry with her right now. She's going through so much already," he explains to Bon, though he can see that Laurel isn't getting much of her sympathy.

"She showed me pictures, told me a little about her. She looks so much like both of us, Bon," he says with a small smile. "She's beautiful and she's sick." He can't keep his emotions in check, not over this—never with anything to do with Laurel. He finds that's especially true now that he knows about his daughter.

"So what? You're going to let Laurel have whatever she wants because Mia is sick?" she asks. "You're going to let her manipulate you all over again."

"Of course not! But what do you expect me to do? Yell at her in the middle of the hospital? What if it was Mikey?" he asks, trying to get Bonnie to see where he's coming from. "Could you handle any anger directed at you?"

Bonnie sighs, and he can see her recognizing his point. "No, of course not," she concedes. "But you have to talk to her, Frank. You deserve to see and _know_ your daughter. She has to know that's the right thing, too."

Frank nods. "I know and I will."

"But you're right. At this moment, the focus should be on your daughter. I can't even imagine what Laurel's been going through." Frank feels a wave of relief at Bonnie's admission, that she understands where he's coming from and has stopped wanting to destroy Laurel, at least for now.

He knows she's not entirely wrong. He needs to talk it out with Laurel. He needs her to understand how angry he is that she just left and robbed him of being part of his daughter's life from the beginning.

"Are you a match?" Bonnie asks softly, her anger subsiding and focus shifting to comfort.

"I should find out in the next few hours."

She reaches for his hand, which he didn't even realize was shaking until she squeezes it tightly. "You will be," she says confidently. "You'll be a match, and your daughter will get better and then you and Laurel will have to figure this out. Let her get through this, but then you fight to know your daughter. Don't let her walk away again.

xxx

It happens fast. Once Frank gets the call that he's a match, he and Laurel are on the next plane to Mexico.

Laurel is tense the entire flight, but Frank can tell that it's not because of him. She's eager to get back to Mia, to do this, and hopefully, set Mia on a path to recovery.

She doesn't say much, and really there's not much to say after she fell into his arms at the news, hugged him close as she cried tears of relief that he was a match and willing to go as soon as possible.

His anger melted a little as he held her, and he doesn't push her on seeing his daughter even after they arrive at the hospital, even though he's yearning to see Mia in person before her procedure. This can't be about him right now though. He remembers what he said to Bonnie, the way they both ultimately agreed that this is not the time.

For now, he holds onto the fact that he may actually be able to help his daughter. That's the most important part here. He hasn't been able to do anything for her in her entire life, but he can do this. It's a start; though, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to make up for not being there.

The procedure doesn't go as smoothly as they had hoped.

For his part, there's no real concern—it's an outpatient procedure and he's out of the hospital bed within a few hours, standing next to a silent, terrified Laurel.

For Mia, it's different. She has to go through high-dose chemotherapy, even more than what her little body can handle. That kills the infected cells and the bone marrow transplant is critical for blood-forming cells to reproduce. Or something like that. He tried to pay attention as the doctor discussed it with them, but all he could really hear was how it was still highly dangerous for Mia. The chemo leaves her extremely weak and that means she's not only susceptible to fatal infections but also to rejecting his bone marrow.

And in the immediate aftermath, the worry is that she is rejecting the transplant. No one is allowed in the room with her—the need to keep it sterile and free from germs is the doctor's priority. So, Laurel stands outside her room, staring at their sedated daughter, not yet awake from the procedure. He knows she's never been very religious—he hasn't either—but he can tell she's silently praying. He sends up a quiet prayer, too, in case someone up there actually cares to hear him out and do something despite how much he doesn't deserve it.

Standing there next to Laurel also gives Frank his first, live look at his little girl. And it takes everything in him not to break down. He wishes there was more he could do. He'd give anything to make her better. He'd gladly die for her without a second thought if he had to.

Her body doesn't accept the transplant right away. It's a lot of back and forth and worry about how this first night will go. Laurel doesn't leave her post outside Mia's room. And Frank doesn't leave her side for more than a few minutes to get her water and a snack from the vending machine. She refuses to drink or eat anything, though; he's not even sure she's really aware of anything that's happening around her.

It's when she starts to sway on her feet and almost passes out that Frank and the doctor force her to rest. Frank leads her to a nearby room, where the nurses allow them to sleep and gives her some water. She takes it this time, and he sits next to her on the bed as her tears start to fall. They don't talk, and he knows there's nothing he can really say to make this better. Mia's stable, for now, but it doesn't mean she'll stay that way. So, they just sit in silence until all of her exhaustion—physical and emotional—takes over, and she falls asleep against his shoulder.

Frank gently lays her on the bed, covering her with a thin sheet before moving to the other small bed in the room.

He can't sleep though, and so he alternates between watching over his daughter and watching over Laurel. Finally, while doing the latter, he starts snoozing lightly, until Laurel's voice cuts through the silence of the room and wakes him almost instantly.

"Frank?" she asks softly, voice tearful, and he turns his head to see through the darkened room that there are tears streaming down her face.

"Laurel," he breathes out, pained by her hurt and finds himself sliding out of his bed and walking over to hers. She makes room for him immediately as if she was seeking his presence.

Laying on his side, facing her, he reaches out to wipe the tears from her cheeks. After several moments of just looking at each other, just being, Frank clears his throat.

His rough voice is quiet but she can hear him clearly.

"She's gonna be okay, Laurel," he promises, hoping he's not lying to her.

The words only cause her frown to deepen. "You don't know that."

But Frank's undeterred by Laurel reluctance to believe Mia will be okay. He's only seen his daughter from afar but he knows. Somehow, he just does. "I do," he asserts. "I do know that. She's strong, Laurel."

The sincerity and clear belief in his own words quiet her for a moment before she allows herself to wonder.

"How do you know that?"

He wishes he could transfer every ounce of confidence he suddenly feels to her but he can't; so instead, he explains it the only way he can. "She's got so much light in her eyes. Even more than you used to have in yours."

She just looks at him, slightly surprised, seemingly studying him and his words and clearly not sure how to respond.

"Frank…" she starts tentatively before trailing off back into silence.

He pauses a moment before slowly reaching out again, careful not to spook her, and pushing some hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her cheek as his soft voice fills the silence.

"I took that from you," he admits, knowing that everything that happened between them, every lie and eventual truth he told broke her just a little bit more. She trusted him at one point, loved him, and he just threw it all away and left her.

But she doesn't let him take that blame. Her eyes crinkle in confusion and she slowly shakes her head against the pillow.

"You didn't," she tells him, voice soft but firm. He opens his mouth to protest because he knows what he did, but she doesn't let him. "It wasn't you, Frank. Sometimes, you were the only light I had," she confesses.

And though he knows he has a lot of the blame in what happened to them, to her—even if she won't let him take it—the fact that she felt that way about him sets his heart pounding. He wasn't alone with his feelings.

It also makes him hate himself even more because he left her, he ignored her when she needed him the most. He hates himself for it all. He should have gone after her. He should have fixed it. He shouldn't have let that angry last fight in her apartment be the end.

She seems to sense his internal struggle and moves even closer until her chest is pressing softly against him. "You didn't, Frank," she repeats before leaning in and pressing her lips against his.

His reaction is immediate, because she's all he's thought about for six years. It's always been her.

He kisses her back, deepening the kiss and moaning softly as he finally tastes her again. His hand slides around her body and tangles in her hair, keeping her close to him as the passion between them ignites. She grips his shirt, pulling him close, seeking something from him—the comfort he thinks he's also seeking from her. It's all been too much but this is familiar. This is where everything has always felt right to him.

He doesn't know how long they kiss, how long their hands roam, clinging to the familiarity. And they don't say anything more to each other. But eventually they pull apart and Laurel rests her head on his chest as they both drift off back to sleep, knowing they will have a long day ahead of them.

Of course, Frank should have known he'd be alone once morning came.


End file.
